<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Let me lay my shadow down by mittagsfrau</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389468">Let me lay my shadow down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau'>mittagsfrau</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hydra Husbands AUs [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Into the Ashes (2019), Kill Me Three Times (2014), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Shameless Smut, Violence, hydra husbands AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:01:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a slow and entirely uneventful night at Jack’s bar. That is until a rough looking dude walks in. His whole posture screams trouble. Jack checks for the baseball bat under the bar instinctively. The guy saunters in like he owns the place, climbs on the bar stool, leans on the counter and tries to get Jack’s attention by snapping his fingers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Taylor/Sloan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hydra Husbands AUs [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let me lay my shadow down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a slow and entirely uneventful night at Jack’s bar. That is until a rough looking dude walks in. His whole posture screams trouble. Jack checks for the baseball bat under the bar instinctively. The guy saunters in like he owns the place, climbs on the bar stool, leans on the counter and tries to get Jack’s attention by snapping his fingers.</p>
<p><br/>Jack takes one look at him. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and wears his hair like a rockabilly idiot. Jack briefly considers throwing him out.</p>
<p><br/>Jack puts on an approximation of a pleasant smile and asks him: “what can I do for you?” The man stares at him. Jack is used to people scrutinizing his face, the scar, the strabism but the dude looks lower. “This is the ugliest fucking shirt I have ever seen”, the stranger blurts out. Of course he’s a fucking American. </p>
<p><br/>“Fuck you”, Jack growls.</p>
<p><br/>“Yes, please”, the man smirks, “but take that atrocity off first.”</p>
<p><br/>Jack gapes at him. That’s so random, that he’s sure, that this is a weird dream. He’s asleep in his office and dreams of rude Americans trying to get into his pants. Too surreal to be real.</p>
<p><br/>Jack grabs the collar of that ridiculous leather jacket and yanks the man over the counter. Big, calloused hands grab at his forearms and somewhere there’s glass shattering on the floor. The American finds his footing again and his composure. He looks up to meet Jack’s eyes, has to look up, hazel eyes and thick dark lashes and fuck, he’s actually hot.</p>
<p><br/>Jack tries to recount the last time he did this. Before his marriage, somewhere in the haze of his wild twenties. It’s been a while since anyone looked at him like this, with desire, like he was actually attractive or something. Jack likes it, it makes his heart beat faster.</p>
<p><br/>Jack kisses that smirking mouth, swallows the sound of surprise he startled out of the man. The thick stubble needs some getting used to but it’s exciting.</p>
<p><br/>It’s awkward with the counter between them, so Jack lets him go reluctantly. The American licks his lips. His douchey hairstyle is all messed up and he’s sweating in that leather jacket.</p>
<p><br/>Jack closes the bar, grabs the back of the man’s neck and leads him to the office in the back. He’s oddly docile.</p>
<p><br/>In the pink light the stranger looks unearthly. All harsh angles and masculine appeal. Jack shoves the leather jacket off his shoulders, trapping his arms. He’s broad shouldered and fucking ripped under that tight t-shirt. "Like what you see?" The man grins, confident, arrogant as Jack slips a hand under his t-shirt and finds a perfectly sculpted eight pack. There's a glint of danger in the stranger's eyes then he rips Jack's favorite shirt open with his teeth.</p>
<p><br/>Jack backhands him. It’s like a reflex, he didn’t even think, he just reacted. The American’s head whips around and as he turns back to face jack his eyes are dark and his expression unreadable.</p>
<p><br/>The man shrugs out of the constraining leather jacket and rolls his neck. There is a trickle of blood on his lower lip. His smile is something too sinister to call it that. He takes off his shirt. The man is built like an ancient marble statue come alive.</p>
<p><br/>Jack opens his mouth to apologize but the man pounces on him like a tiger and knocks him over the arm of the couch.</p>
<p><br/>There is a flurry of sharp elbows and solid knees and in the end Jack’s shirt is in tatters, his pants and underwear are tangled around his ankles and he feels his blind eye swell shut. The American is braced above him, not even winded by their scuffle and grinning like a maniac.</p>
<p><br/>“You’re something else”, he almost purrs and opens his belt. Jack tries to stifle the raising panic at the sight of the black leather slowly slithering out of the loops like a snake. For a moment, the man is his father and Jack has fucked up again. </p>
<p><br/>The man seems to feel that something is off. Well, maybe it’s Jack’s flagging erection. He tosses the belt away, leans down and swallows Jack’s dick in one smooth motion before Jack can even draw a breath. Jack makes a sound that isn’t a shriek or yelp, not at all. Girly sounds aside, the man seriously knows what he’s doing. Jack lies there stupefied for a while as that pretty mouth works its magic. Then he reaches out, caresses the sharp cheekbones and the lips stretched around his dick like an apology.</p>
<p><br/>The American pulls off with a lewd slurping sound and Jack sits up to kiss him again. Together they wrestle him out of his too tight jeans and Jack bends him over the sofa. He puts a hand on the back of the slender neck.<br/>"Stay like that. I'll be right back."</p>
<p><br/>Jack almost trips over his tangled pants. He kicks them off and walks over to his desk. In the upper right drawer there’s a bottle of lube, courtesy of his wife. She replaced his gun with it. There’s still a bright yellow post it stuck on it. It reads “fuck you”.</p>
<p><br/>He peels the note off and walks back over the couch. The man stands there awkwardly, leaning against the back of the couch.<br/>“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”</p>
<p> <br/>“You were taking too long. What the hell were you doing over there anyway?” He suddenly looks guarded, suspicious, crossing his big arms in front of his chest.</p>
<p><br/>Jack holds the bottle of lube up as an explanation. The man frowns.</p>
<p><br/>“I’m not fucking you dry”, Jack tells him and leans in for a kiss, his free hand on the sharp line of the American’s hip.</p>
<p><br/>The man dodges his lips and grumbles: “I can take it, have taken it with some spit and a prayer.</p>
<p><br/>Jack’s hand grabs the man’s thick, dark hair and he kisses him savagely. The American pushes weakly at his chest. It’s not real protest. If the man wanted, he could lay out Jack with a single punch.</p>
<p><br/>The man’s lips look bruised as they part again and Jack tastes iron from the reopened cut on the man’s bottom lip.</p>
<p><br/>“Now turn around and bend over. Gonna fuck you until you see stars”, Jack promises him.<br/>The man complies and Jack takes a moment to stare at that fine ass. It’s utter perfection and sticking things into it should feel more like a sacrilege than it actually does. The man squirms and curses colorfully as Jack twists two slick fingers into him.</p>
<p><br/>Jack should probably not do him bare but at the moment he doesn’t care. His plan was to drink himself to an early grave anyway.<br/>The American is still too tight as Jack presses in. The initial resistance is formidable but once he has overcome it, he sinks in slowly with a heartfelt groan.</p>
<p><br/>The American groans like a dying man but pushes back eagerly. “Fuck me like you mean it”, he growls. Jack grabs hold of his shoulders and puts his back into it. It’s brutal, he never fucked his wife that hard but the man urges him on.</p>
<p><br/>Jack stares at the play of muscles under the sweat slick skin of the man’s back. The slap of skin on skin is obscene and every time he bottoms out, he punches animalistic sounds out of the guy.</p>
<p><br/>Jack slows down, grinding his hips and the American curses him, insulting his heritage and again his fashion sense.</p>
<p><br/>Jack bends over him, slipping an arm under the stranger’s heaving chest and grabs hold of his jaw, forcing his back to arch while he screws him nice and slow.</p>
<p><br/>“You’re gonna take it just like I give it to you.” He draws out and stabs into him brutally just to see his eyes roll back in his head before fucking him nice and easy again.</p>
<p><br/>Sloan bucks like a spooked horse under him, snarling and twisting in his grip. Jack holds on and presses in deep.</p>
<p><br/>He hushes him and kisses his sweaty neck. “Be good for me.”</p>
<p><br/>“Stop”, the American grinds out between clenched teeth but Jack just squirts more lube on the place where they are connected and changes the angle, using both hands to tilt the man’s hip up.</p>
<p><br/>The next thrust has the American scramble for purchase on the leather and he whimpers like a kicked puppy.</p>
<p><br/>“Just like that?”, Jack whispers, “is that the spot?” Jack caresses his trembling thighs. The man has risen on tip toes.</p>
<p><br/>“Jesus fucking Christ”, the stranger groans and tries to push back.</p>
<p><br/>Jack covers his shoulders with kisses and grinds his dick hard against that firming little bump. He can feel the man’s internal muscles start to flutter.</p>
<p><br/>“Are you close, baby?”, he purrs with his mouth on the American’s jugular, the tip of his tongue on a strong and rapid heartbeat.</p>
<p><br/>“Don’t you”, the man groans, “fucking call me that.”</p>
<p><br/>“What should I call you then?” Jack asks fucking him languidly, teasing him.</p>
<p><br/>“My fucking name for example, it’s Sloan.”<br/>“Pleased to meet you, Sloan”, Jack mocks him, “now I’m gonna make you see stars, just like I promised.”</p>
<p><br/>Jack grabs Sloan’s left leg and puts his knee up on the backrest of the couch, his other hand cups the man’s sharp jaw and makes him lean back against Jack’s chest. He fucks him hard enough to push the heavy leather couch a few inches forward until Sloan comes with a choked off groan.</p>
<p><br/>Jack nearly blacks out when he follows Sloan over the edge. They sway dangerously before Sloan gets both legs on the floor again.<br/>The American curses under his breath as Jack slips out of him but tries to bat the hands away that are checking him for tearing.<br/>“I’m fine”, he insists.</p>
<p><br/>Jack puts one of his big hands on the small of Sloan’s back and bends him over again. The fingers of his other hand part his buttocks and he carefully checks him. He looks sore but there’s no blood.</p>
<p><br/>Sloan squirms. “Fuck, how much slick did you use? That feels absolutely disgusting.”</p>
<p><br/>Jack has enough of that ungrateful bastard and pushes two fingers back into him. A trickle of cum runs out of him, dripping over Jack’s palm, down his wrist. Sloan groans as Jack finds his prostate again. “Fucking hell, what’s wrong with you?”</p>
<p><br/>Jack grabs both of those pert cheeks and buries his face between them. Sloan squeals, actually squeals, high pitched and startled as Jack starts eating him out. He’s loose enough for Jack to lick inside him, sucking his own cum out of Sloan’s hole. The lube has a chemical taste but Jack doesn’t care. <br/>Sloan whimpers and tries to buck up and squirm away at the same time. A steady stream of “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” falls from his lips.</p>
<p><br/>As Jack comes up to take a deep breath, Sloan looks over his shoulder “Don’t you fucking dare to stop”. </p>
<p><br/>Jack smiles and goes back to work until Sloan is an incoherent mess.</p>
<p><br/>His knees pop as he rises from the floor again and pushes back inside. He slides in easily. Sloan’s body feels more welcoming now, that greedy hole is practically sucking him in.</p>
<p><br/>Sloan moans softly as Jack starts fucking him again, slowly easing almost all the way out and pushing in smoothly. Sloan whines with loss every time Jack draws out and sighs in pleasure as he gets filled again.</p>
<p><br/>“Please”, Sloan begs him and Jack slips a hand between the back of the couch and Sloan’s hips, stroking his dripping cock gently.<br/>“Come for me, baby”, Jack tells him and Sloan does without protesting the endearment. <br/>Jack has no idea how two grown men fit on the couch but they somehow make it work. Sloan lies basically on top of him, exhausted and sweaty. Jack drags a blanket from the floor and covers them before falling asleep. </p>
<p>In the morning Sloan tries to sneak out. Jack catches him by wrapping his arms around him from behind.</p>
<p><br/>“What are you doing?” Jack asks him and kisses his neck. “Getting out of your hair”, Sloan replies, “what does it look like?”</p>
<p><br/>Jack turns him around. Sloan is still naked, his clothes bunched up in his arms</p>
<p>.<br/>“How about that? You take a shower with me and I’ll make some breakfast for us.”<br/>Sloan frowns. He didn’t expect an offer like that. He nods at the picture on the desk. “What about your missus?”</p>
<p><br/>“She ran away with her lover, took fifty thousand out of my safe and my gun with her, too.”</p>
<p><br/>Sloan nods, he’s a little dazed still. “You’re not fucking me in the shower, I’m sore and my legs haven’t stopped shaking yet.”</p>
<p><br/>“I didn’t plan to”, Jack reassures him, “maybe a nice handjob?”</p>
<p><br/>Sloan smiles but groans “maybe. Maybe you have to feed me first.”</p>
<p><br/>In broad daylight he’s oddly shy but appreciative of Jack’s big hands washing him under the spray of the shower. The dried cum on his skin had started to itch already. Jack insists on kissing him. He never fucked a dude so keen on that.</p>
<p><br/>Sloan wears Jack’s clothes at the kitchen table. Shorts and a wildly patterned shirt. Fuck, it’s even uglier than the one he destroyed last night.</p>
<p><br/>Jack makes scrambled eggs on toast for him, there’s coffee and orange juice, too.</p>
<p><br/>“No fucking vegemite, please”, Sloan begs him. Jack laughs: “it’s an acquired taste.”</p>
<p><br/>“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not from around here”, Jack says, “but you don’t look like a tourist either.”</p>
<p><br/>“No white socks in sandals?”, Sloan smiles. He looks boyish like that. Jack’s heart beats faster.</p>
<p><br/>“I wanted a new start, far away from my problems”, Sloan admits.</p>
<p><br/>“I’ve spent the last seven years in a federal prison in the states. Armed robbery.” Sloan tests the waters, looking into Jack’s eyes for a reaction.</p>
<p><br/>Jack raises his brows. "Well, you do look like trouble." Jack raises his glass of orange juice. "To new beginnings."</p>
<p><br/>Sloan's shoulders relax. The tension bleeds out of him. “To new beginnings.”</p>
<p><br/>Some months later Jack gets a letter from his wife. She wants him to sign the divorce papers and asks for nothing else. He’s relieved, that she doesn’t want to drag him to court. Soon he’s officially a free man again.</p>
<p><br/>On the anniversary of meeting Sloan, he prepares an elaborate dinner, puts on a shirt Sloan doesn’t frown at and takes the ring out of the safe he bought for this occasion.<br/>Sloan is a little stunned by the candlelight dinner and the proposal.</p>
<p><br/>“Are you sure?” He can’t take his eyes off the ring. He likes skull themed jewelry but this one is so life like and perfectly sculpted, nicer than anything he had ever bought for himself. <br/>Jack takes the ring and puts it on Sloan’s finger. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”</p>
<p><br/>Sloan is flustered. He’s still not used to those raw declarations of love. He can’t find words to say, so he leans over and kisses Jack.</p>
<p><br/>Since a marriage would change Sloan’s citizen status, they get a visit by a stern lady checking them for a marriage scam.</p>
<p> <br/>She asks them intrusive questions and Jack is about to punch her in the face any minute as Sloan takes over. </p>
<p><br/>“You’re doubting that this is real? You want proof? Wanna watch when he does me on the kitchen table?”</p>
<p> <br/>She looks appalled.</p>
<p><br/>Sloan badgers on. “We totally could. Did so just yesterday, right here.” He gestures at the table and she jerks her hands away from the surface as if burned.</p>
<p><br/>She leaves after that. In her report she calls what she saw “inappropriate displays of affection”.</p>
<p><br/>They do it on the couch after she leaves. It’s a tradition by now. Jack will never throw that thing out. Despite the bite marks on the arm rests.</p>
<p> <br/>Sloan will write a postcard to his friend Charlie who drove him to the airport and not into his revenge plot against Nick.</p>
<p><br/>In the next summer Sloan gets married barefoot on a beach like a cliché chick. At least he’s not pregnant.</p>
<p><br/>Jack even wears a nice shirt. One that doesn’t hurt to look at. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've wanted a happy ending for those two idiots. Why not together?</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>